Damaged Souls
by dbzyaoilover
Summary: A tragic experience, like the death of a loved one not only brings pain secrets, hide feelings, old wounds and resentment can be exposed. WARNINGS: Death of a character, angst. YAOI VegetaGoku
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own DB/Z/GT

Many thanks to my beta-reader Chibigoku for her generosity and enthusiasm.

AN: This story takes place eleven years after Buu, Goten and Trunks are over eighteen, so, for things that will happen in later chapters, no minors involved. (But they won't be a couple here). Gohan never married Videl, so Pan doesn't exist. Bra doesn't exist either, but I can't reveal why yet, it will be explained in next chapters.

DAMAGED SOULS

Chapter One

_Be careful what you wish for_, they say…because you may get more than you bargained for.

The adage probably had crossed Goku's mind, now that all his dreams had come true in the form of a dreadful nightmare; what he had craved, waited for so long: the ultimate challenge; an unbeatable enemy; to meet the most powerful being in the universe.

After the initial excitement, that euphoria, that exhilarating rush of adrenalin that always made him feel so alive, providing a pleasure that could not be compared to any other sensation, all had turned to the worst…

The day had started off as any ordinary day. At the crack of dawn both full blooded saiyans were in the gravity room, ready to start their training. (It had become a daily routine during the last eleven years, since one day shortly after Buu's defeat, Vegeta made his appearance at the Son's residence demanding Goku to go spar with him.)

They had been enjoying a fierce exchange of strikes for three hours, in what they used to call their warm-up exercises before starting for real, when Goku, feeling a slight nip at the back of his mind, suddenly paused and, wiping a trickle of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, landed gracefully on the floor.

A grunt of annoyance rumbled in Vegeta's throat, but when he saw the serious and concentrated look on Goku's face, the prince swallowed the sarcastic retort that was about to pass through his lips.

He could so easily read each of Goku's gestures and expressions, that no word, no explanation was needed to realize that the younger saiyan had detected a potential danger. So, after giving a curt nod in tacit understanding, Vegeta switched off the controls of the gravity machine and both men left the chamber.

Stretching out with his senses, Vegeta was assaulted, almost knocked, by the overwhelming force of an unfamiliar ki signal. But quickly, a clamor arose from each and one of his cells; it was his lust for battle, making his entire body tingle in sheer joy, sweeping away his initial astonishment and prevailing over any other emotion.

He closed his eyes slowly and licked his lips in anticipation, savoring the moment, and, drawing a deep breath, chuckled knowing that Goku was feeling the same; he could smell it oozing from every pore of Goku's skin.

Opening his eyes, he let them flicker to meet Goku's shining gaze, and smirking in complicity, blasted off into the vast, clear sky.

Soon the three demi saiyans, having abandoned their mundane activities the very same moment they had perceived that mysterious and massive source of energy, joined their fathers in their silent flight. All of them, even Vegeta, with identical grins of anticipation and excitement plastered on their faces.

Over the years, Vegeta had witnessed with disappointment how the wild, saiyan side of Trunks and Goten, so manifest during their childhood, had started to fade out once the boys reached puberty, overcome by their human nature. They barely trained anymore, having developed other interests; Goten had started to hang out with girls while Trunks, following in his mother's steps, wished to become a scientist.

But Vegeta still could be proud that in the moment of truth, when danger was prowling around, creeping in the shadows like a burglar, all of them, even Gohan, unable to disown the call of their blood, followed, embraced with passion his most primal and atavistic instincts. That perpetual fire boiling in his veins, driving them to meet the danger like insects attracted by a flame, to die a glorious, blazing death. They were and always would be warriors; they live for it, they would die for it.

Piccolo had appeared too, eliciting a grumble of distaste from the moody prince, who, mumbling something about useless weaklings, speeded up, to fly alone, some meters ahead from the group. The namekian did not even blink, unaffected by Vegeta's attitude. He was the only one left of the gang who still shared that undying passion for fighting. All their human friends had renounced to their old adventurous life and had grown apart. Some of them had settled with their families, some of them had moved on to distant places. Time was an implacable enemy and had left its indelible mark, cooling off their hot blood and their battle-lust.

As the group approached the area where the signal came from, their breaths were becoming more and more arduous due to the suffocating, hot air. Surveying their surroundings, they found that their fate was waiting for them in one of the most inhospitable and desolate deserts of the planet. Yards and yards of red, alluvial terrain, extended far beyond the eyes could reach, smoking under an implacable sun. And nothing else, except a blurred silhouette; one could think to be one of those optic illusions that could be seen so frequently on hot and still days, in such arid regions, if not for the powerful aura it irradiated.

Coming closer, they took notice that the object of their worry was an anthropomorphic being with smooth, light-blue skin, totally bare of hair or fur; his lipless mouth was a narrow line, it looked like an incision made with a knife; instead of nose he had a wide crease, one could even find it comical if not for the two tiny red eyes glowing like sizzling embers, which gave him a rather malevolent appearance.

A priory, and despite his peculiar aspect, the creature had not seemed much of a threat; he was bulky and taller than all of them, even towering over Piccolo; and, certainly, it had an impressive power level, but nothing that they were not able to handle. All of them had the certainty that, soon, the ugly being would be biting the dust, begging for his life. So all of them had laughed at his stupid arrogance, when the humanoid had introduced himself as Hakaisha, the destroyer, making clear his intentions to kill them all and reduce the planet to ashes.

Except Goku; he had remained serious and silent. That voice in the back of his head always on alert during battle, told him otherwise. Not only this being's aura was made of negative energy and his strength was greater than it appeared; the younger saiyan had caught only a glimpse of the real thing and almost stumbled, overwhelmed by it. But there was something more, something concealed, dark and dangerous, that Goku was unable to detect because the beast had lifted an almost impenetrable barrier around his mind.

But the most unsettling, blood-curdling thing had been to experience for just a second, before the monster was aware to be mentally scrutinized, that he had no conscience, scruples or principles of any kind, no soul. Not even Cell or Buu or any other enemy they had confronted in the past was so unemotional, so inhuman, deprived of any kind of feeling or empathy. If they could not beat him then they were all doomed. All Goku could perceive from him was a necessity to satiate some primal instincts and appetites, nothing else.

But when he had shared his concerns with his companions, warning them, begging to be cautious, their innate pride and arrogance had prevailed over any other consideration, and Goku's apprehension went totally ignored. But who could blame them? Hell, he was the first devoured for his insane bloodlust, wanting nothing else than starting the onslaught.

But it was Vegeta who took the initiative after scathingly reproached the younger saiyan for his cowardice, (Goku just shrugged expecting it. In the peculiar friendship both saiyans had built over the years, all those rebukes, cutting retorts and insults had remained just as a trademark of the prince, a habit difficult to erase; but with no real intention to hurt, quite the contrary, it could be traced a tone of affection, one even could say tenderness, subtly veiled under the halfhearted harshness.)

Then, after pinning them all into place with a feral glare, forbidding any kind of interference, the prince charged against the creature. All of them sighed, except Piccolo who grunted his disapproval and annoyance at being ordered around, frowning and folding his arms, (He had not overcome his distaste for the prince after so many years as allies. They never had gotten along well, there were too many similarities between them and as they say, alike poles repels each other. But Piccolo could never forgive Vegeta for stealing from him Goku's affection, for taking his place in Goku's heart. Goku had been his first and only true friend, someone who had trusted him like nobody else. Not even Gohan, who was like a son to him, had shown him such blind faith and warmth; but everything had changed when the prince stormed into their lives.)

Meanwhile, the demi-saiyans' minds were occupied, too, with their own reflections. They knew very well what would happen: Vegeta in his compulsive necessity to assume the leadership, to feel he was in charge, to show he was capable of handling the situation without anybody else's help, would let his arrogance take the best of him. As always, he would tend to overestimate his abilities and power, and to underestimate his enemy's. When he'd become aware of his mistake and start to get beaten and, worst of all, humiliated, he would release all his wrath, becoming an enraged killing machine, aggravating the situation. And Goku would have to intervene to fix the mess, saving the day and getting all the appraisals. And Vegeta would be keeping a grudge against Goku for weeks.

Trunks sighed deeply; he would be the one to have to deal with an infuriated (more than usual) prince. There would be destruction of furniture and unjustified aggressions to the CC. employers, (fortunately, his grandfather would deal with people's complaints, sues, and resignations, paying bills and hiring new people.) Trunks shuddered, suddenly dreading the day he would have to take charge of the familiar business and contemplated, for just a second, the idea of using the dragon balls to ask for eternal life for his grandfather.

But the worst would be having to hear for hours the constants imprecations, insults, curses and rants against Goku. And Trunks deeply hated it because since he first met him, he had developed a special affection for the taller saiyan; his cheerful and jovial character, so different from his father's coldness, and that irresistible charm the earth-raised saiyan showed so liberally but unconsciously poured around, had always drawn him to the man.

Later, would come the depression and the moping. Trunks had been utterly shocked the first time he witnessed such unexpected behavior from his arrogant father; but he realized that even Vegeta needed a friend or at least someone who could stand him. And Goku was the only one capable of that.

Vegeta was unable to be apart from the other saiyan for long periods of time, so, inevitably, he would go looking for him to spar as if nothing had happened, and things would return to normal. But before that happened, life would be hell for the CC residents.

All those musings faded into oblivion as they watched, incredulously, how the creature seemed to be immune to any attack. At first, Vegeta had been striking merely with his fists, mainly to determine the real extent of his rival's physical force, to see how he moved in battle and to find possible weak points. But the enemy did not even bother to duck or block the oncoming strikes; the impacts seemed to have the same effect as simple caresses on him.

As time slip away, Vegeta's thin patience seemed to decrease at the same rate his anger grew deeper. He powered up to level two, hitting harder and faster. His breath was starting to become laborious and uneven, and thick drops of sweat ran profusely from his forehead. But his opponent, showing no sign of fatigue or pain, remained in the same position, with his arms folded over his chest, and a scornful look in his devilish eyes, taunting him with that smirk of superiority which seemed permanently frozen on his lips.

Being beaten where it hurt the most, his sense of pride, Vegeta, pausing, clamped his mouth tightly and glared at his foe with contempt. He would not tolerate to be ridiculed and humiliated by such an unworthy piece of trash; so, hovering up in the sky several inches above his rival's head and roaring like a beast, he unleashed all his growing rage in the form of a massive rain of ki blasts.

The prince smirked, thinking to have caused a fatal harm; but once the dense cloud of smoke and dust started to vanish, Vegeta's expression of satisfaction was replaced by other of shock and disbelief when he realized that all his attacks had been in vain. The creature was still standing there, unfazed, impervious to everything, without a scratch, without a mark, he had not even broken a sweat.

But, composing himself quickly, Vegeta powered up to level three and delivered another barrage of potent shots, and then other, and other…until he was so drained of energy that, unable to keep aloft for any longer and reverting to his normal form, with a great deal of effort he landed on the floor, panting heavily.

Taking advantage of Vegeta's tiredness the creature threw a brutal counterattack; despite his corpulence, he moved at an unmatchable speed, giving no time to his opponent to react. Vegeta, unable to block any of the hits, was being continuously smashed into the ground, but nothing else than small gasps passed through his lips. He always staggered to his feet, paying no heed to the excruciating pain jolting through his body. Finally with a violent strike across the head, Vegeta crashed against the heated soil and lay there semi-unconscious.

The others had remained watching the battle from afar as Vegeta had commanded, being rendered immobile and speechless, mistrusting their own eyes. They could not understand how easily Vegeta had been beaten, when e his ki could be sensed still flaring at maximum. Trunks ran to give him a senzu bean while the others, brushing off their shock, started to fight the beast.

Time fled, along with their strength and hopes. Nothing had worked; nor the five saiyans ascended at their maximum plus Piccolo joining all their forces, nor the mystic powers of Gohan, nor the fusion Gotenks. Goku had even tried a Genki dama, but at that point he was too weak to collect the sufficient energy, and there were not any more senzu beans left.

Too late, had they realized that their attacks not only didn't cause any harm, but also serving to strengthen their foe instead. At first, they had thought that his skin acted as some sort of shield, repelling their blasts; but its real function was to absorb all the energy that impacted on the surface. So they were nurturing him with every new attack; while they were in a lamentable state.

They were certain he had only made use of a minuscule fraction of his energies but his strikes were more painful than nothing they had experienced before.

It had become evident that this hideous being was toying with them, finding a sickening pleasure in inflicting to his victims as much suffering as possible before delivering the definitive 'coupe de grace'. And this conviction had made them lose all their confidence.

But if they still had a little faith in their possibilities, it vanished at the terrible revelation that this creature had the power to destroy not only their bodies but their souls. Being killed by one of his blows would mean total annihilation; no trace, not even a little speck or atom would be left of them, not in this world and neither in otherworld.

A visceral fear, born from the guts and distilled along with every drop of sweat, filled the air. A fear greater than life itself. So thick that it was almost tangible. It had spread like fire through their bodies, burning all their insides, to nest in the depths of their hearts. But it did not refrain them to keep on fighting until their last breaths.

Even Goku was experiencing, for the first time in his life, the bitter taste of defeat, convinced that all was lost and there was nothing he could do. Except Gohan, who had taken the last senzu bean a little while ago and was still able to oppose resistance, Goku was the only one left standing upon his feet, though hardly. He was wobbling, weak due to the blood loss; only his willpower and his stubborn determination kept him from collapsing.

Panting roughly, he looked around, letting his cloudy eyes wander over the desolate scene: scattered on the ground like ragged dolls, the battered bodies of his unconscious companions: Piccolo, Goten, Trunks, Vegeta… all of them, fallen, beaten.

His heart skipped a few beats, and, swallowing thick, he clamped his eyes tightly shut in a childish and absurd attempt to deceive himself with the illusion that if he could not see it then it wasn't real and nothing of this had happened. But the poignant images flashed through his mind incessantly, haunting him; and the harsh stench of blood hung heavily in the air, invading his nostrils, making it impossible to forget. Suddenly, not knowing exactly why, memories of his combat with Radditz filled his mind.

It had been disgusting to find that someone who had claimed to be his brother, his family, his own blood, had no dignity, no honor. He had so shamelessly showed such cowardice begging pitifully for his life when he had been defeated. Maybe that's why Goku had never felt any regret or repentance for causing his death.

Goku shot his eyes open; he had never been a coward, he would not act like his brother. He would confront death like any other enemy: standing tall and proud, head up, looking at its very face with defiance, without concessions.

But he could not help a sudden, stinging pang of remorse, believing that he had, somehow, failed everybody. He was not capable of finding a way out of this situation. This time he could not save them.

But what had he expected? To suddenly attain a new level to amaze everybody, or to come with a genial master plan to prove he still was the best, to save the day again and be the hero? All of his past deeds, his heroic acts…had they been performed with the only purpose to get praise and admiration? Had he been always as vain and presumptuous as now he seemed to be from this new perspective?

He had never felt such necessity to question himself and his motivations until now. What had really moved him to save the planet? Had he given preference to his enjoyment and his prestige as a warrior over the wellbeing of his loved ones?

Goku searched deep within himself and he discovered, ashamed of himself, that, in honesty, he did not know the answer.

Goku hissed, grimacing, not at the physical pain -he had become very accustomed to it- but at that frustrating sensation of impotence and rage that was swallowing him up. Then he spitted, trying to get rid of the taste of blood that was mingled with another new and different flavor: desperation. For the first time in his life, he felt like a helpless child. And he cursed his damn vanity. But suddenly, a barely audible murmur reached his ears, interrupting the course of his somber thoughts

"Ka…Kakarooo…" The voice was as fragile and weak as the thread that held his owner to life. Vegeta, tilting his head to look in Goku's direction, was scratching and digging his nails into the arid soil in an attempt to draw himself upon his hands and knees, but only to have his fingers and hands bruised and bleeding. Goku heaved a deep sigh in commiseration at the painful sight.

But not only Vegeta's extreme suffering was reflected on the bloody mess that was his face; his undyingly combative spirit, his stubbornness and determination could be traced also, like a burning fire shining in the depths of those obsidian, ardent pupils, keeping him alive. And that arrogant attitude of constant defiance was almost comforting, because it was the only certainty in this crazy world.

Goku walked over to kneel before the crawling prince and gently laid a hand on his shoulder; Vegeta winced slightly at the touch and with a cough of blood the little strength still left in him escaped, and he collapsed in the dirt to lay on his stomach, unmoving.

Goku flipped over the limp body very carefully and let his gaze peruse all over it. Vegeta was all covered in blood, dirt and grime. His sweat-soaked hair hung down, clinging to his chiseled face and neck. Some locks, sticky with dried blood, were encrusted to his forehead and Goku reached out to pull them apart, but he paused, as Vegeta shuddered and whimpered in pain.

At first sight, he seemed to be in a very delicate condition; earlier, Goku had checked the two fallen demi-saiyans and Piccolo, and though they were unconscious it wasn't anything as bad as this.

Surveying more meticulously the extent of the damage, he soon took notice of the critical state of the prince: his eyes were swollen and black, his nose was broken and his lips cut; every inch of his skin was covered with bruises, scratches and gashes, and blood flowed in rivers and dropped on the ground, forming a crimson pool all around him; the muscled chest rose and fell with difficulty and his breath was slow and ragged, possibly due to broken ribs and punctured lungs; the pulse was very weak, almost inexistent, his heartbeat was erratic and slow and, probably, his internal injuries were, at least, as serious as the rest.

Goku was certain that the prince was still alive only because of his stubbornness; anybody else in such condition would have already died. If the circumstances weren't so awful, the younger saiyan could have laughed; the damn bastard, who else would dare to defy the very death so shamelessly and arrogantly?

Vegeta spitted out more blood, with eyes tightly closed, and let out a hiss before mumbling weakly: "Take us…to Dende…" Then, he arched his back but tried to look up ignoring the tiredness and intense pain bursting through him.

Goku shushed him, holding him in his arms firmly but gently, feeling, all at once, a burning pang jabbing his heart and a renewed admiration for the man. In spite of his state of frailty, the proud prince shifted in Goku's lap to grasp some shreds still left of his gi top.

"Heal…fuse…" Goku, still a little disorientated from the beating, frowned trying to decipher the meaning of Vegeta's words.

"Do you mean to fuse with me?" The prince nodded, exhaling a faint sigh. Goku almost smiled at Vegeta's unexpected petition. But immediately a troubled scowl was drawn to his face.

"Vegeta, it won't work, Gotenks' attacks were ineffective, fused we'll make him even stronger."

Vegeta wished to have enough strength just to punch Goku's face, or at least to release his rage in the form of a cutting retort; what a moment for Goku to play the dumbass. But he saved his remaining energy to try to chain some words into a coherent sentence.

"If we… are… fused the… spirit bomb may… work… nghh." Vegeta stammered between splitters of blood and grunts of pain.

Goku suddenly understood, and for the first time during those last, ominous hours a little light of hope seemed to break through the black desperation in which they all were immersed. Vegeta was a genius.

"Yes, we would be able to throw a deadly attack." Once his last words left his mouth, Goku realized that the other man had passed out cold.

The younger saiyan brought two fingers to his forehead, praying to have enough energy to teleport himself and Vegeta to the lookout; fortunately, in an instant both appeared before a somber Dende, who had witnessed the dreadful events thanks to his powers; so no explanation was needed. After leaving his precious burden at the care of the young guardian, Goku returned to the battlefield.

Gohan was still fighting, only with his physical force, with his raw fists, to economize his energy, but he wasn't being able to connect any blow into his target or to duck the attacks thrown at him; his skin was all purple and crimson with the bruises and the blood, and the mere act of breathing was becoming a very strenuous task. But, he was firmly determined to distract the beast as long as it would be necessary.

He had never lost his faith in his father. He had idolized his dad when he was only a shy and frightened child and, in his eyes, Goku still kept that golden aureole of hero, of god, of living legend. So when he noticed his father's absence, Gohan was positively convinced that he had already conceived a plan to save them all.

When his father reappeared, Gohan, despite his pitiful state, turned to look at him smiling, raising two fingers in a sign of victory. Goku, nodding, with worry and pride, all at once, written on his face, went to pick up the two unconscious kids and Piccolo to teleport them to the lookout. He gave a last look to his elder son, who in that precise moment had crashed against the ground; but he left, knowing that Gohan would rise to his feet to keep on fighting until the end of his forces.

Dende was in deep concentration sending healing waves over the wrecked figure of the prince. Stopping in time the internal hemorrhage was his priority, being crucial to save Vegeta's life. So when Goku returned with the three beaten bodies, Dende, without pausing in his task, instructed him to lay them on a huge, nearby bed. Goku did so and then, he sat down on the floor, leaning back his head against the side of the mattress. His ragged breath was the only sound floating in that serene space.

He inhaled deeply the clean air of the room, it was comforting even though still a slight scent of blood lingered. But at least there, the ambiance was fresh and relaxing, and he could forget that insufferable heat of the last past hours. Succumbing to exhaustion, Goku closed his eyes and dozed off.

When he roused some minutes later, Dende was scanning the children to determine the severity of their injuries. Fortunately their state wasn't critical and they could wait until their parents were healed. So the namekian returned to Vegeta's side.

Although Vegeta's life was not in danger anymore, it was taking longer than expected to fully restore the prince's healthiness due to the extent of his damage and the limited powers of the young guardian.

Meanwhile, Goku had started to get nervous and was anxiously pacing back and forth across the lookout, in spite of his weariness, worried for his son. Being all their ki's signatures intermingled in their enemy's aura; from there, Goku was incapable to discern how much of Gohan's energy still remained within him. He only knew that his son would not be able to resist for much longer.

Goku never had been the pessimistic type, always looking on the bright side of things, even in the hardest of times. But at this point, only negative, doomed thoughts were bombarding mercilessly into his mind. Healing Vegeta might completely consume Dende's energy and it would be a long while before he could tend to Goku. And If both of them weren't at their maximum, the fusion wouldn't work. And knowing Vegeta, he wouldn't be able to wait patiently for Goku to be in perfect shape. He would fly back to the battleground to die fighting; and that would be the end.

The end… For the first time in his life Goku knew what the word panic really meant. He had been dead twice, but instead of a traumatic experience, it had been a wonderful adventure. He had felt as happy and alive as ever. How could he be frightened or distressed knowing that an eternity full of new and exciting surprises and challenges was awaiting him, to share it forever with his sons, as the Kais had promised him?

But in the course of the last events, the seed of fear had been planted deep within him, and nurtured by desperation; it had grown to hold his heart in a tight grip. It never had occurred to him, before now, the possibility of being completely obliterated from existence, not being capable of feeling anymore, his soul lost forever…nothingness, the worst of any punishment. A chill made him tremble from head to toes, being suddenly assailed by a deep desire to run to Gohan's side. And he mentally berated himself; he shouldn't have allowed his own sons to undergo such peril.

It was painfully ironic to discover the amount of flaws he had without being aware, until now that he was looking in the very face of death. How he had deceived himself, blind by his stupid narcissism. He had installed himself comfortably and shamelessly on the pedestal the others have put him in. But he was starting to realize that pedestals were stupid, useless things, made of lies and all kind of trash, making oneself lose real perspective of people and things. When you cannot look others face to face, be at their level, and start to think yourself better than anybody else, idiocy has irremissibly taken control over you.

Yes, he had been nothing but an idiot believing himself the heroic role he had been assigned: the savior, a pure and selfless soul; when the naked and devastating truth was that he was a fraud, a complete failure as a father, friend and human being. And he wished with all his heart to be given a second chance to make amends.

Finally, after what Goku thought to be an eternity, Vegeta was again in possession of all his faculties and power. And, fortunately, Dende still kept enough energy to restore Goku's strength. Without delay, the two saiyans had performed the 'stupid little dance', giving birth to the mighty Gogeta.

Upon agreeing with Vegeta's wise suggestion to form the spirit bomb before teleporting back to the battlefield so they could catch the damn creature with its guard down; Gogeta, with his gaze lost beyond the horizon, after powering up to level three, was standing at the edge of the lookout with lifted arms, palms turned upward, gathering all the positive energy that was being sent from every corner of the universe. It would have been impossible without the help of the kais, who had asked all the inhabitants of the universe under their respective jurisdictions to collaborate.

Brilliant flashes of white energy ran through the skies to collide into the growing light-blue sphere that was suspended above the warrior's head.

Gogeta's unperturbed and vacant countenance was a mere illusion, a mask hiding a tormented being, torn between conflicting emotions.

In the past, every time both saiyans had fused, their opposed personalities, instead of colliding, complemented each other perfectly. A harmonious dichotomy confined within that amazing entity. Being usually Vegeta's side the impatient and hot-blooded one, controlled and smoothed by Goku's influence. But in this occasion, exceptionally, the roles had been reversed; the prince was the one keeping his head clear and cool, restraining Goku's increasing anxiety and aborting the younger saiyan's desperate attempts to teleport before the bomb was formed.

But before Goku would lose his nerves completely ruining their only chance to win, Gogeta had collected enough energy to deliver an effective attack and he rapidly returned to the battleground.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gohan lying on the ground. It was difficult to believe that such twisted, deformed and bleeding mass of broken limbs, raw flesh and dirt was a human body. He was seemingly unconscious because of the excruciating pain and the loss of blood.

Gritting his teeth with contained fury, Gogeta threw the huge ball at a very unimpressed creature, who rapidly reacted shooting a powerful ray right through the center of the giant sphere. But his arrogant and hideous expression was rapidly replaced by another of stupefaction and utter disbelief upon seeing how the bomb continued its unstoppable advance until engulfing him. Finally, the monster had been smashed into oblivion like the disgusting cockroach he was.

And then… nothing. And Gogeta erupted in a feral howl, feeling as if a part of his heart, the best part, had been ripped out of his chest leaving him incapacitated to feel any other emotion than agony and a deep anguish: No ki, no vital sign coming from the wrecked body of the demi-saiyan. Gohan was gone. Forever. Goku felt like dying a thousand terrible and painful deaths as bitter realization beat him hard: he would never meet his son again.

And Gogeta collapsed on the ground at the burning pang constricting his heart, his whole body convulsing while irradiating potent waves of energy, making the earth quake and roar. Then with a piercing, agonizing scream the two saiyans split up and lay on the ground surrounded by a dense cloud of smoke, debris and dust.

Vegeta was on his hands and knees panting heavily, trying to recover his breath, his mind too numb to process what had just happened. They were supposed to remain joined during thirty minutes, but he was sure that not more than twenty had passed.

Lifting his head, Vegeta looked around and when he spotted the younger saiyan, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a shiver ran up his spine at the heartbreaking scene performed before his eyes: Goku, grimacing, with all the pain of this world reflected on his face, was cradling the bloody corpse in his arms, humming softly a lullaby his grandfather used to sing at nights. And Vegeta didn't know why such an awkward action, something that seemed so uncharacteristic from the younger saiyan, touched him so deeply, stroking a cord deep within his soul.

Meanwhile Goku was blind, mute and deaf to everything but his anguish. His heart was crying tears of blood, his soul was shattered and his entire world had been reduced to ashes, only pain being left. And the world was cold, and dark and crimson, like the blood that would not boil anymore through the veins of that lifeless body that he once had called son. And raising his empty eyes to the sky, he let them wander around, stupefied.

He was unable to understand why the planet, the whole universe had not ceased their course, or why the stars had not fallen down, or why the sun, the moon and the oceans had not stopped their movement at such great loss. Why the world had not been conquered by obscurity, now that the purest and brightest of the lights had been extinguished. And pain and wrath took what was left of his heart by assault.

And he started to power up, roaring like a wild animal, madness flashing in the depths of his hazy eyes. He gently laid the dead body on the soil and then, driven by an insane rage, blasted off into the sky.

Feeling suffocated as he flew, Goku gasped for air; and all of a sudden, he felt his body become as heavy as a rock. He released all the energy left in him with the vain hope to escape all those painful emotions; if he could stop feeling, if only he could die and be dissolved into oblivion, like his son, like his lost life…he unconsciously unleashed more and more of his growing wrath, and all that uncontrolled energy made the whole earth tremble.

Goku had lost, with his sanity, all dominion over himself and, like a hurt animal, was fleeing without thinking, unaware of his acts, only led by an irrational impulse. His mind was totally blank, he had no destination and no plan in mind, but in his blind fury he was pouring out more and more of his energy, blowing up everything and setting on fire all the land as he flew. If nobody stopped him, he was going to explode reducing the entire planet to ashes.

Vegeta had been witnessing with certain stupefaction the scene, like something unreal, a dream, or rather a nightmare; stunned, due to the range of emotions washing over him in such a little amount of time, being the predominant one, fear; a sheer fear to be alone again. But also confusion, anxiety, sorrow, sympathy, and some other sensations that he didn't even know how to name.

But being a man of action, he rapidly put aside all those musing. Now he had to center all his senses and his energy to go in pursuit of the frenzied saiyan. He wasn't going to allow the other to abandon him again. If Goku was going to end in a blaze of self-destruction, this time Vegeta would follow him.

Goku was moving at such speeds that, soon, he disappeared from Vegeta's field of vision. The prince then had tried to locate his signal, but the energy emitted by the younger saiyan was so amazingly intense and strong that Vegeta could physically feel the pain as it pounded brutally within his head. Hissing, he blocked his mind. But it didn't matter, it was easy to track the other saiyan, he just had to follow the trail of destruction and the smell of burning.

When he finally caught sight of the other male, Vegeta couldn't believe his eyes. Maybe this dreadful day hadn't happened and all of this was just a bad dream. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, mouth agape in astonishment.

Goku was there, stopped in mid air and surrounded by a powerful, brilliant aura; with a fierce but incredibly alluring appearance: His black, long, unruly mane hung down passed his shoulders; his eyes had changed in color- being now yellow- and in shape, not being as large as usual, but more alike Vegeta's; and that red line around them gave him a feral and dangerous look. But the most astounding of his new features was the magenta fur covering most of his body; and his tail was back, and that same weird color.

Animalistic howls thundered, startling any leaving creature within hundreds of miles radius as Goku's body was shaken by incessant spasms. And Vegeta wasn't sure if the other had attained a new level of super saiyan or if it was some sort of semi-oozaru form, triggered by his transitory madness.

The power emitted by Goku was simply astonishing; it was impossible to believe a mere mortal was able to store such an amount of energy within his body, without exploding into pieces. And it kept on increasing with every passing minute.

Once partially recomposed from his shock; Vegeta ascended to level three and, though the expansive wave of Goku's energy was too strong to get close; due more to his willpower and determination, than to his physical force, Vegeta had managed to latch onto the human torch Goku had become.

It felt like being in the very core of hell, like being submerged in a lake of boiling lava; so intense was the burning heat irradiated by that powerful body. But Vegeta remained stuck to the younger saiyan calling his name, with the meager hope that the other would regain his sanity.

Goku felt a little nuisance, something trying to restrain him and he had to get rid of it. So he twisted around and, without recognizing him, took a tight grip on Vegeta's neck, strangling him while spiraling down until they crashed on the ground.

In his feral trance, Goku wasn't aware of his acts or his surroundings; but, gradually, a persistent, whispering sound started to make way through his haziness, it was Vegeta's faint voice repeating incessantly, his saiyan name. And as if that chant was some kind of magic spell with the power to conjure lunacy, Goku suddenly reverted to his normal form while his mind began to register what was happening; he could sense something warm pulsing under his fingers. He looked intently down to clearly see Vegeta beneath him trying in vain to gasp for air, as his throat was being constricted by powerful hands: Goku's.

The younger saiyan couldn't stop staring fascinated and, at the same time, horrified at Vegeta's demeanor: The prince was not struggling for his life but offering himself like a propitiatory victim ready, willing, for the sacrifice, with a sad smile on his blue-for-the-lack-of-air lips; and half lidded brilliant eyes, filled with understanding and an atypical, unexpected sweetness.

Goku, completely mystified, still was tightly clutching the sore neck. But suddenly assailed by awareness, he abruptly let it go, as if it was a red-hot coal scorching his hand. Vegeta drew a deep intake of air into his lungs and coughed before looking up at the younger man, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Then, grabbing Goku's hands, Vegeta placed them again on his neck.

"Kill me, Kakarot" Goku didn't react, he had heard the words but the meaning hadn't sunk in his head.

"Kill me, if that lessens your pain and makes you feel better, though even for just a second. I will die happy. Do it already, damnit!" The prince's voice was profound, with a tinge of sadness, and in spite of the urgency and the cursing, it was so gentle, so soothing, like a balm to Goku's broken heart; and as hypnotizing and tempting as a mermaid's chant.

But Goku finally let him go; although his gaze stood fix on the pattern of red welts and purple bruises on bronzed skin. And suddenly he felt the odd urge to trace all those marks with his tongue. He blinked, more confused if possible, and then he moved apart, sitting on the ground.

"Why, Vegeta?"

"Don't you know, Kakarot? After all these years and still you haven't noticed" The voice now came out tired, weak, like a sad murmur, as Vegeta propping himself upon his elbows held the other man's gaze. Then, closing his eyes, a helpless sigh escaped through his tremble lips. "Why do you think, in spite my harshness and insults I've stayed on earth, going in your help whenever you needed it?"

"To save your family?" Goku's words emerged mostly as an assertion than as a question, despite the inquiring tone.

"My family…" He trailed off, restraining a sardonic snicker at the sight of Goku's mournful countenance. He would tell Goku all about his family, but now wasn't the time to vent up his pathetic, domestic tribulations. Goku had suffered an irreparable loss; Vegeta wouldn't bother him with such trivialities.

He sighed again, then, shifting until he was knelt in front of the younger man, so close that their noses were almost touching, raised a hand to place it softly on Goku's cheek. At the stunned look the other suddenly gave him, Vegeta whispered: "Don't you know what you mean to me, Kakarot?"

Vegeta's tone of voice was deliberately sensual as he savored, instead than pronounced, the exotic name that had become so familiar to the younger saiyan over the years. He leaned closer, grabbing the remains of Goku's collar shirt, to caress delicately, chastely Goku's lips with his.

Goku remained petrified, but slowly a warm feeling coursed through him. The touch had felt like the petals of a rose, like silk, like the perfumed breeze of a summer morning. So unexpected, that bittersweet sensation, all that pain stabbing his heart and at the same time such tenderness from the man before him.

But it didn't last enough for his mind to process the real significance of that simple gesture, and what just had transcended between them was lost to Goku. But then, a few tears slid down his cheeks and it felt so odd. Goku didn't remember having ever cried before, but it was somehow comforting or at least relieving, washing some of his pain out of his system.

And soon, unable to restrain all that crushing grief anymore, an incessant stream of the salty fluid left his eyes. He sunk his head in Vegeta's welcoming chest, sobbing, nuzzling against that warm body, wrapping his arms around the prince's torso while gentle fingers ran through his hair and a soothing hand rubbed his back. Once the tears subsided, and feeling a little more at ease, Goku lifted his head to look at the prince through watery eyes.

"My son…He's no more, I'll never ever see him again. Not here, not in the otherworld, and there's nothing I can do. I wished I would be dead as well." Though oozing anguish, his voice sounded strangely serene. Vegeta held him tighter and whispered in his ear: "Shh, Kakarot, you can't let yourself surrender to desperation, there's some other people who need you."

"But I can't …I don't deserve to keep on living. You can't understand." Vegeta stiffened at Goku's words and loosened his grip on the younger saiyan. Goku didn't know anything about all his past mourning and desperation. Those seven years without the other man…a sigh blew past Vegeta's lips as painful memories he had confined in the most recondite corner of his mind, assailed his thoughts, taunting him, in a macabre dance.

When Goku sacrificed his life during the battle with Cell, Vegeta had refused to fight. Everybody had thought it had been a childish tantrum because it was another who had killed Goku instead of him. The fools, how dared them to judge him so frivolously when they did know nothing about saiyans.

When a saiyan warrior was in mourning for a loved one, it was the custom to renounce fighting for several years, it was a signal of respect and love only shown to close family or to a spouse/mate. And it was more than a mere symbol, it was in their blood, they felt irremissibly compel to do it. They were extremely passionate creatures, even in his pain; and when a beloved one died, the grief was so intense and deep that it overcame anything else, even their lust for battle.

And with that gesture, Vegeta had finally admitted to himself his real feelings for Goku.

It all had started when he first saw Goku as a super saiyan, fighting Freeza. Adoration had flashed just for a fraction of a second in Vegeta's eyes, before the prince could banish such 'outrageous' feelings from his head, from his cold heart, from his tainted soul, from his entire self. And later, when they had been brought to earth by the dragon, he had laughed, voicing out loud his rejoice for Goku's death, but it just had been a desperate attempt to persuade himself that the other saiyan meant nothing to him, that he despised him deeply.

Vegeta had been deceiving himself for some time, but it was becoming more and more difficult to deny that his growing obsession for the younger saiyan entailed much more than mere rivalry. And he hated himself and Goku for this craving. Because Vegeta refused to give it any other name; it was a craving, nothing else; though hating it, he could grudgingly admit that he Vegeta, 'wanted' someone, that was something he could feel comfortable with, without compromising his pride too much. But he didn't 'need', or 'care for', and much less 'love' anybody; because that would imply to claudicate, to submit, to renounce to his essence, and to admit his weakness. But deep inside, Vegeta knew that it was absurd to use semantic as a shield; because that feeling he refused to acknowledge was there, waiting to breach his defenses to creep its way into his heart.

But Goku's death had been like a devastating tsunami washing away all those emotions that had been bursting through him: wrath, hatred, anger, frustration…and demolishing all his barriers and fronts, only leaving a man drowned in his pain; a man who had recognized too late, that it was love, that it had always been love.

Vegeta snapped out of his reverie and looked tenderly at the man that still was sobbing in his arms.

"I understand better than you imagine Kakarot. I've felt exactly the same way you're feeling now; that anguish for the loss, that guilt for still being alive…"

Goku looked at him inquiringly and apologetically.

"Sorry, I forgot, our home planet…"

"No, Kakarot…You." Goku frowned, again in confusion.

"My life ended when you died and decided to stay in otherworld. I had lost the half of my soul, the best half. It was so difficult to find the strength to wake up every brand new day knowing you wouldn't be there. I knew that I wouldn't be allowed to be with you after dying, because of my horrid past, but I had expected at least to spend some years with you here, but when you left my life had no purpose, no meaning anymore." Vegeta's quivering voice was an unquestionable evidence of how hard it was being for the proud and reserved prince to open up his heart.

"Vegeta… I didn't know… you were always so harsh, so distant. I thought you didn't like me, that you just tolerated my presence cause you needed a decent sparring partner… Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I knew I had no place in your life, you were too committed to your family and I respected that.'' A profound sorrow was the predominant emotion present in the prince's voice as he reached out with his hand to caress Goku's cheek again. When Goku nuzzled into the touch, a smile brightened Vegeta's whole face.

"Vegeta…" At the needy tone of Goku's whispering voice, the prince, still with his hand on Goku's face, started to pour a rain of feathery kisses on Goku's other cheek. The younger saiyan closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to forget everything just for a little while, not remembering the last time he had been object of such a tender display of affection.

"Let me help you Kakarot." Whispered in Goku's ear. Then, tilting his head, Vegeta started a new kiss, this time more intense. He threw his arms around Goku's neck, smiling into the kiss the very moment he felt Goku's arms wrapped tightly around his waist and his newly re-grown tail stroking his back.

He pressed his mouth more forcefully against his partner's and, capturing Goku's lower lip between his, first teasingly, then he started to suck it avidly, almost with desperation, he wanted to devour the other man wholly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he shivered as he felt Goku moaning into his mouth. He pulled slightly apart to whisper with a voice full of passion: "I love you, Kakarot."

Goku froze at those words as the cruel reality reached that peaceful but fake backwater he had secluded himself in during the last minutes, slapping him hard in the face, and remorse crushed him under its unbearable weight. His tail hung limpid behind him as he disentangled himself from the prince's sweet embrace. And when Vegeta tried to kiss him again, Goku threw his head back and placed the palm of his hand on Vegeta's mouth.

"I… just can't Vegeta. You make me feel so guilty…" The older saiyan frowned, looking worriedly at Goku who just stared down, not daring to confront Vegeta's hurt gaze.

"Kakarot…" Goku's head snapped up at the slight tinge of resentment, subtly veiled under the pleading tone of Vegeta's voice.

"I think I don't feel the same for you, I would have the sensation to be taking advantage of you; I am so empty, I've got nothing to give. I would only be a dead weigh, a burden." The words came out abruptly as Goku's anxiousness increased.

"Shhh…just take what you want, I've got enough for the two of us, let me fill the void in your heart with my love. I can heal you, Kakarot, just let me try."

And hungry, desperate lips collided with hesitant ones, pressing urgently, demandingly, to get a response. A probing tongue darted out from his moist cavity passing through half parted lips, running over a row of stubbornly clamped teeth, but its perseverance had its reward and entrance was finally granted. Vegeta couldn't refrain from moaning in sheer delight relishing in the hotness and the intoxicating flavor he found there; the man oozed exquisite nectar.

Vegeta had fantasized so many times about this moment, wondering how it would be to taste the younger saiyan, but this surpassed his most delirious, blissful dreams. Suddenly he felt his clothes more constraining than usual, and his skin burning, and his head spinning. And all he could do was to worship that delicious mouth. For interminable moments, tongues twined, slid over each other, in a restless and frenzied dance of wet caresses. Vegeta, groaning, placed a hand on the back of Goku's neck to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, which became more heated with every passing minute.

Vegeta pressed even more if possible his body tightly against Goku's hard one, feeling how the man was kissing back as passionately as himself. But in the belief that the younger saiyan was enjoying as much as himself, Vegeta was totally unaware of Goku's inner turmoil.

Goku, at first, had been overwhelmed by lust. It felt so good that he simply had relaxed and started to participate more and more enthusiastically as pleasure coursed through his veins like some kind of drug, making him go numb, killing all his pains.

But after a while something else started to build up within, something born in the pitch of his stomach, making him lurch: a bitter, devastating rage, consuming him, storming through his body like a dark, accusing angel of vengeance looking for retribution. His son's corpse was still warm and he was enjoying a sinful pleasure instead of mourning for the loss.

And all that fury born from his sense of culpability engulfed him until he exploded. Tensing his body, he pushed brusquely Vegeta apart from him and the prince landed roughly on his rump, with a shocked expression on his face.

His heart skipped a few beats as he took notice of Goku's serious and angry countenance. The younger saiyan was gritting his teeth and curling his fingers into fists, digging his nails so forcefully into his palms that blood started to ooze in rivulets.

"No, I don't want to be healed I don't want to stop feeling this pain, just leave me alone, Vegeta!" The elder saiyan rose to his feet and his gaze was so full of sadness that Goku could not help the regretful sigh that escaped from his dry lips, and, much calmer, stated with a tired voice: "Please, try to understand me, Vegeta. I need the pain to honor my son's memory, without this pain I'd feel like betraying my son. I've got no right to be happy." He closed his eyes, feeling them well up again but not wanting to shed more tears.

The prince stepped forward bringing a hand to Goku's hair, but before he could touch him, the younger saiyan grabbed Vegeta's wrist, shaking his head in negation.

"I have to take the dead body of my son to his mother." And without looking back he blasted off into the sky and flew back to the battlefield. Vegeta watched sadly as Goku became just a tiny speck in the horizon.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DB/Z/GT

This chapter isn't beta-ed. Sorry for all the errors; just bear in mind that I'm not a native-English speaker and my knowledge of the language isn't as vast as I'd wish.

Thanks for reading.

DAMAGED SOULS

Chapter Two

Goku was maintaining a steady pace during his solitary flight toward the setting sun. The neutral expression of his countenance and his appearance of serene composure perfectly concealing the storm raging within his very soul: His heart had become a battlefield where diverse emotions were engaged in a fierce fight for dominance- culpability clearly prevailing over the rest -while a maelstrom of poignant thoughts and memories was menacing to overflow his mind.

Painful but welcome memories of his son.

Accursed, unwanted memories of those last, shameful, minutes with Vegeta.

But how to purge them out of his system, when all his senses were overloaded with the damned alluring presence of the prince?

The intoxicating and persistent flavor still inciting Goku's taste buds, awakening in him a yearning for more of that ambrosia.

The rich, masculine scent still lingering in his nostrils, penetrating deeply with every mouthful of air; and the feel of such warmth breath, like an exotic breeze, making his skin tingle and his mind go hazy.

The passionate though protective embrace; Goku could lean against that firm body forever, so welcoming, so comforting.

The subtle caress of velvety lips, still fluttering over his own…All those exquisite, pleasant, but treacherous, sensations, coursing through his veins like an addictive poison, conjured to evoke in him a myriad of disturbing and tempting images.

Unwilling to venture further in the tortuous path his thoughts were taking, Goku squeezed his eyes shut for a brief instant and shook his head vigorously, in a vain attempt to cleanse his psyche, his spirit, his whole self , to concentrate all his energies in mourning his grievous loss.

But his mind seemed disposed to give him no respite, still rummaging, wondering once and again about Vegeta's recent demeanor.

Goku was completely mystified by the fact that the proud prince could harbor, for so many years, such intense feelings for him, and, moreover, that he would have proclaimed them so openly, with such unexpected tenderness.

Passionate, sure. Goku had always known that an ardent heart lay captive within Vegeta's cold appearance. But tender…that was an unsuspected facet of the prince; something that, not even in his most delirious, insane dreams, Goku could have ever imagined.

But, more than confused, Goku was furious. With the prince, for daring to put him under such predicament at such fateful moment; but mostly with the way his own body had reacted, and still was reacting, succumbing to an ephimeral and fictitious gratification.

Had it been only an uncontrollable need of comfort? A mere, unconscious, inevitable response to all the physical, delicious stimulation his nervous terminations had been bombarded with? Or something else, something latent and hidden deep within the most remote recesses of his very core, something he had never dare to explore?

Whatsoever it had come upon him, he did not need to know at the moment. His only certainty was that his behavior had been inexcusable, ignominious and he was the most loathsome and vile of the creatures.

Goku hissed as his face contorted in pain; all the emotional tension he was undergoing, was starting to affect him physically in the form of a dull but relentless ache over his forehead and temples. He drew a deep breath before expelling the air very slowly, but it did nothing to calm his growing anxiety. He groaned in annoyance; he needed to focus his attention on something else or he was going to lose the scarce self-control he still retained.

Therefore, Goku let his gaze wander over the devastated land, outstretched far below like an agonizing victim of his recent insanity: vast expanses of charred soil of a dark-grayish tone; heaps of debris, stones and scorched trunks; columns of dense, white smoke rising up into the sky…The hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he noticed the uncanny resemblance between such desolated scenario and the inner landscape of his tortured soul.

He hardly remembered what had happened. His mind only retained a few vague, fragmentary images of his frenzied flight: At some point, he had attained a new level which had resulted in the regeneration of his tail. But the rage and that urgent necessity to escape were still fresh, vivid sensations; too deeply entrenched in his memory, impossible to forget.

But all that madness, the unleashed chaos, anything was preferable to his present awareness; the guiltiness, the agony, so intense and oppressive, eating him whole, making him feel, all of a sudden, so lost, frail and vulnerable, like a leaf slowly being shredded while swirling and spiraling within the eye of a whirlwind.

Goku's onyx orbs stung with unshed tears and he gasped for air, suffocated, at the sensation of being drowning in the turbulent sea of his emotions.

Sometimes it was better not to feel at all. And with the only desire to leave behind the consuming, overwhelming sorrow, the saiyan speeded up. The pale blue of a sunny afternoon swiftly turning into the hazy violet of a sunset as he devoured mile after mile trough that immense, changing sky.

When Goku was nearing the harsh, arid region where he had abandoned his son; an amber, agonizing sun was drifting along that line where the earth and the sky melt into each other in a chaste and endless kiss, bleeding golden and bronze, leaving its vibrant and magnificent but ephemeral imprint in the twilight as the land below was starting to get conquered by shadows.

But unimpressed at such magnificent display of beauty, Goku decreased gradually his velocity while descending to glide closer to the ground. He surveyed his whereabouts to locate the exact point where the corpse laid; the vastness and monotony of the place, without any landmark or distinctive signal, making slightly difficult his search.

The earth seemed so peaceful and serene in those lazy hours at the end of the day, so painfully oblivious to Goku's pain, that he could not refrain an irate frown, his tail lashing violently in the air, as anger and hatred simmered within him, making his heart pound wildly in his ears.

He hated everything; hated the world, no more a friendly and welcoming place; hated every living creature for daring to breath; but mostly hated himself for not having been able to avoid the disaster. A good father would have protected and kept his son away from peril instead of shoving him into its discarnate claws. He would never be able to forgive himself, and that certainty made his stomach lurch with nausea as the recalcitrant pain in his head gradually became more intense.

Right after spotting the corpse, Goku darted down to land silently, softly, as in fear to break the gloomy quietness which reigned supreme all over the place. A chill ran up his spine as the crisp air of the crepuscule bit into his flesh.

He swallowed hard, feeling his lips suddenly going dry and a lump tightening in his throat. Then, dropping to his knees, he reached out with his arms to pick up that lifeless shell; still warm and flaccid, in that stage prior to rigor mortis, when the body hasn't become rigid yet. Goku pulled him closer against his chest, holding him in a tight embrace and nuzzling his face against the muddy locks of hair. He let a few tears run free as the heavy, metallic scent of blood mercilessly assailed him.

He could not go back home with his son in such state: it was almost impossible to recognize Gohan's features under the thick layer of grime and dried blood covering his face. No mother should be allowed to see her child like that. Nothing might palliate the unfathomable heartache at the loss of her son, but he would avoid Chichi any unnecessary, additional suffering.

He had to find a place where to cleanse all that damn, bloody traces from his son's body. So, taking off into the somnolent sky, he flew southwards, back into the daylight again.

Soon he made out a river in the distance; at first sight, the environment seemed wild and rough, a stony terrain with magnificent, elevated forests and dense thickets at both edges of the untamed torrent. A closer examination of the area revealed the existence of some clearings downstream, where the watercourse was more calmer. He landed with a muffled thud and, very gently, as if afraid to inflict any harm, Goku laid the dear body on the moss-carpeted ground.

As he strode towards the stream, a fresh breeze swept over, carrying a clean aroma of humid wood, heather and pine. Goku halted briefly and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to get rid of the acrid stench of blood still lingering in his nostrils as the rustling sound of leaves and the sweet, melodic murmur of the crystalline water reached his ears.

But his distress was much too overpowering to allow himself relishing in such pleasant and soothing sensations for any longer than a fleeting instant and he swiftly moved to kneel at the edge of the river. He peeled off the remains of his ragged and stained gi top to submerse it into the transparent liquid. Then, returning at his son's side, Goku dropped on his knees, proceeding, first, to moisten the lips with the soaked piece of fabric.

It was a picturesque rite Goku had witnessed during those three years he spent traveling around the world. It was performed in the belief that the deceased would revive if he was given pure water, preferably by the closest relative.

Goku could understand until certain point why such absurd and irrational traditions still persisted nowadays: People threw themselves into the unsteady arms of superstition, the last bastion of their hopes in their moment of despair, the only source of solace and console for their agonizing hearts. But the motives why he had done it were beyond his rational cognition. It had been a mere reflex action, something absolutely involuntary, because he did not believe in such things and, what was more important, he had utterly and completely lost all hope. Maybe it had just been the unconscious expression of his love and respect for the lost son, his way to render homage to the brave warrior or a simple farewell from a doleful father.

Tired of questioning each and one of his actions, Goku tried to let his mind go blank by concentrating his undivided attention on the task at hand and, sighing, he rubbed the damp cloth, very gently at first, almost reverently, over Gohan's face and neck; but the coagulated blood was too encrusted so he started to scrub more vigorously.

He paused after a while, exhaling a huff of annoyance upon seeing that only some of the superficial grime had been wiped out. So, tossing the dirty and useless piece of fabric to the ground, he proceeded to undress the limp body.

Goku frowned; there was not much blood under the clothes, but almost the whole surface of Gohan's skin was covered in huge purple bruises, and those cannot be swept away, those would remain there, exposed, as mute but vivid testimony of the pain he had endured before exhaling his last breath.

Averting his eyes from the corpse, Goku rose to his feet and, after a quick visual inspection of the zone, he went to gather some plants which could be used as soap. Placing them under his gi sash, he promptly moved to haul Gohan into the river.

A tremor ran through him and a light hiss blew past his lips the very moment his body made contact with the icy water. Rising his ki just enough to prevent hypothermia, he remained rooted there, letting the liquid soften the filthy crust. Meanwhile, his mind drifted back to the days of Gohan's childhood, prior to the tempest (Raditz's arrival) which had shaken their placid lives, changing them forever.

The suggestive ambiance; the stillness of such placid afternoon; the vibrant colors of the nature around; the elegant evolutions of the cottony, pristine clouds, lofty ships sailing in a limpid, serene ocean, above his head; the tepid kiss of the sunbeams and the caress of the fragrant zephyr over his skin. All combined, evoking in him happy reminiscences of better days; when he used to take Gohan to similar places, to swim or fish, or simply to sit at the shore to play childish games like throwing pebbles into the water, or looking at the clouds passing by.

The laughs of pure joy of his son, his shyness and candor, his profound curiosity and his affectionate nature. Such precious gifts, so deeply engraved in Goku's spirit, but never valued enough. Everything gone, lost forever. Only those memories left to torment him. What a blind, stupid fool he had been! So selfish and irresponsible. He should have spent more time with both of his sons when he had the opportunity, instead of flying in the pursuit of crazy adventures just to escape from the tedium of his monotonous existence.

Taking a deep breath, he looked down, turning his attention back to the prone body in his arms. Upon noticing that the water around was starting to acquire a red brownish tone as some of the filth got diluted in it, Goku shifted his son's body to a vertical position while pulling him closer against his chest; he held him firmly with one arm and, retrieving with the other the plants, he began to rub them all over Gohan's hair and skin; dexterous fingers massaging, scrubbing, as white puffy suds dripped to float in the stream and iridescent bubbles gleamed briefly before popping around.

During all that time, Goku had been, unconsciously and incessantly, chanting with a sad and low voice: 'Forgive me, my son.' But a sudden gust of cold wind snatched him out of his trance; he blinked, shuddering slightly, and dunked the body to rinse off all traces of foam. Then, hauling the limp form over one shoulder, Goku stepped out of the river, flaring his ki to dry both their bodies.

Once on the river's bank, Goku stared at Gohan's strangely serene visage: those purple swollen eyes and the livid bruises accentuating the ghostly, unnatural pallor of his features; and that faint smile on his lips giving him a sinister, eerie appearance.

Goku felt his heart pumping in his throat and into his skull. Nobody should outlive their children. He had seen more violence than any ordinary human being could ever imagine, but there was something terribly obscene and immoral in losing one's child: The abyss of agony and desperation tearing one's soul apart, that inner void full of solitude, dejection and bitter resentment; finding oneself suddenly hating life and not knowing how to keep on going, only an aberrant desire to die seething within.

"Don't worry, my son, we'll be at home very soon", Goku whispered with a broken voice. Then he blasted off into the sky, leaving a white trail behind as he flew at full speed, wanting to leave behind as well his somber contemplations.

Upon recognizing from the distance the familiar surroundings where his little cottage was situated, Goku felt his anxiety build up at the perspective to have to confront his wife under such tragic circumstances.

He shivered, perspiring profusely; feeling all his muscles tense all of a sudden and his heart racing wildly in his chest. He began to draw desperate and rapid intakes of air into his lungs, which only served to make him feel lightheaded and lose his balance, and he staggered dangerously in midair, nearly crashing to the ground.

After landing a few meters apart from the house, right behind some shaggy bushes, he reached out with his senses to locate Goten. The boy was still at the lookout and his ki was very low; seeming that Dende, too exhausted after healing the two full blooded saiyans, had not fully recovered his energies yet. Goku gave out a slight sigh of relief; better that way, given Chichi's insane obsession for Gohan, things were going to be very nasty.

Goku closed his eyes, breathing deeply and stood there for a while vainly trying to calm himself down; he was conscious to be postponing the inevitable, but he needed some more minutes to gather enough courage.

Finally, with heavy and hesitant steps, he headed toward the silent house; the languid beauty of the nature around lost to him, unable, in his nervousness, to perceive the magnificent colors of the autumn, all those amber, reddish and brownish of all shades; or the rich and sensuous scents of chestnuts, juniper and humid soil.

All his mind could register was his own slight gasps and the crunch of the dry leaves under his heavy tread- the very sound of doom to Goku's ears -feeling, with each step ahead, like going on his way to the most terrible of the hells. And he clutched tightly the body in his arms, curling his fingers compulsively around the already rigid flesh, and pulled it closer against him as if looking for some kind of support or shield against the imminent storm that was awaiting for him.

Once in front of the main entry, he inhaled deeply again before pulling on the doorknob, with difficulty. He hissed at the creak of the hinges; every sound, even the faintest, making his heart leap in his chest and his hairs stand on end; and he became more aware than ever of the irrational and absurd terror his so-called wife roused in him.

Fighting an instinctive, sudden impulse to run away, Goku stealthily stepped forward, along the silent hallway, in the direction of the living room.

Halting right upon the threshold, Goku let his gaze flicker around until spotting the woman; who was sat on an armchair with the back to the door.

"Chichi." He whispered softly, through quivering lips, to make noticeable his presence. It was evident, by the abruptness of her movements as she rose from her seat and the nervous and insistent tapping of her foot on the floor, that she was not precisely in the best of the moods.

Without facing her husband, she clenched her fingers into fists and, after agonizing seconds of tense silence, spewed out her frustration and resentment in a torrent of recriminations and insults: "It was about time. I've been the whole day in the kitchen working like a slave, for nothing, while you were wasting your time with that bastard again. And now you're dragging my sons along with you." She stopped just for a split second to gasp for air to immediately yell again at him.

"Don't you dare to apart Gohan from his work, leave him alone, he's a normal boy not a lazy ass like you, because…" The words froze in her lips the very moment she turned around to look at her husband; the furious expression on her face was swiftly replaced by another of worry and anxiety at the lamentable sight before her bewildered eyes.

"My baby…what happened to my baby?" She hastily walked over, a hand reaching out to tenderly stroke Gohan's hair. Then she looked up to cast an accusatory glare upon her husband.

"Don't stand there like a twit, come on, take him upstairs, his wounds need to be healed, quickly!" Distress and reproach were the predominant emotions in her high-pitched voice, but Goku remained impassive and a mix of disbelief and suspicion flashed across her face for a second as she locked eyes with him. Those tears, confined in the depths of Goku's onyx pupils, struggling, in vain, to run free, were dreadful heralds of something she was certain she did not want to hear.

"Chichi…he's dead…and cannot be revived with the dragon balls, his soul had been destroyed", Goku managed to mumble through tremulous lips.

Stepping backwards on shaky legs, she shook her head, while pouring ardent tears, mutely mouthing: 'no, no, no…', as her eyes mirrored the look of profound sadness and anguish of her husband. Then she fixed her stare on Gohan's pallid face, looking frantically for an evidence which proved that Goku had lied, that it was nothing but a cruel joke, only to be crushed by the bitter evidence that all sign of life had been drained from her son. And all she could do, at that juncture, was to bring a hand to her chest at the smoldering pain stabbing her heart, while releasing a strangled scream, before passing out cold on the carpeted floor.

Goku furrowed his brow in hesitation for some seconds, but he finally left, heading up the stairs and, bursting into Gohan's bedroom, he laid his precious burden on the modest bed.

The darkness of the place was only disrupted by some weak beams of light breaking through the gaps of the closed blinds, making possible to vaguely discern the outlines of the objects.

Goku looked at his stretched arms, now orphan of their burden, so empty, so useless…and, closing his eyes, he embraced himself tightly, swaying the upper half of his body from side to side while trying to void his mind of thoughts and emotions of any kind. The meager console provided by that action promptly vanished as a chill run up his spine; the sole idea of leaving his son alone into such ghostly penumbra suddenly appeared like an unforgivable felony. So, letting heavily fall his arms at his sides, he moved to lift up the blinds.

The creamy light of the autumn evening streamed inside, bathing the whole place in a golden glow. But the atmosphere was too oppressive and Goku opened the window; a soft, refreshing breeze blew in, merrily dancing between his locks and tickling his skin, but he sighed in dejection as he loomed toward the bed to plant a tender kiss on his son's forehead, before leaving the chamber.

Once back in the living room, Goku picked up his fainted wife and, after placing her on the couch, he started to gently shake her back and forth, whispering her name, until she started to regain consciousness. A feeble moan escaped her parted lips, as she slowly opened her eyes. Chichi blinked several times; confusion etched across her face for an instant, swiftly replaced by an angry frown as the recent events flashed painfully across her mind.

Gritting his teeth, she glared at her husband, who looked like a helpless child. But pity was not precisely the sentiment such image was stirring in her; all she could feel was a profound, blind hate, outwardly manifested in the form of spastic tremors, wracking her whole body.

"Chichi, are you feeling right?" And the angst-ridden tone of that vacillating voice was the final straw to make her unleash all that wrath which was consuming her whole self. As usually, she let her most primal emotions take control over herself, her rational mind going into short-circuit.

She abruptly rose from the couch like a Fury from hell, her features reddened and contorted in a grimace of mixed anger and insanity, and, grabbing Goku's collar with both of her hands, she began to shake him violently. He just let her do, with a look of defeat and resignation plastered on his face.

"You, coward, you let my son die and have the nerve to ask me if I'm feeling right!" Her tone was louder and more enraged with each word spat from her mouth and, letting him go, she curled her fingers into fists to punch him on the chest; all the adrenaline released in her agitated state multiplying her force to almost superhuman heights.

"Give me back my son, bastard, make him come back, useless piece of shit!" She had turned into a rabid wolf, striking, yelling and sputtering the most outrageous and hateful insults she could think of. She kept on like that for a long while, but when her throat started to get sore and her voice became hoarse, the screams subsided; hits never ceasing, though.

Goku stood immobile, silent, with downcast eyes, stoically enduring Chichi's frenzied attack, knowing that hurting and making others more miserable was the only way she could find some relief. And none of her actions really bothered him in the least.

But then, stopping the barrage and throwing the coldest of the stares Goku had ever seen, she snapped : "It's your fault. You only brought suffering and misfortune into his life."

"Chichi…", he dimly trailed off; the hurtful statement causing him to flinch on shaky legs.

"Don't you dare to deny it", she scornfully blurted out, accentuating each word on purpose, "you burdened him with a responsibility no child at such tender age should be forced to bear. And after that, you abandoned him when he needed you the most; without thinking, without even care what that could possibly mean to him, how guilty and unworthy he felt. For years, he spent every single night crying, calling you and begging you pardon in his nightmares, blaming himself for your death and believing you didn't want to come back because you didn't love him anymore. You hurt your own son beyond repair and now you let him die, and it's all your fault."

A sensation of claustrophobia arose deep within Goku's psyche, growing as Chichi's incense tirade went on. His vision became blurry and the room seemed to get smaller with every passing instant; a cold sweat bathed his skin and he started to hyperventilate and gasp like a fish out of water, suddenly under the bizarre impression that the air, thick with the loud tone of her voice and the venom exuded with her words, had become irrespirable.

He tried to resist an urgent, uncontrollable impulse to run away, but could not help to look around for a way out; and when he noticed that all the windows were locked his loud breath became much more labored, as he involuntarily recoiled closer to the door.

He was painfully conscious that this sudden seizure, the hallucinations, were just cruel tricks his mind was playing on him because of his emotional exhaustion; he needed to regain control or he would collapse. So he took a deep breath and rubbed at his temples in circular motions, trying, as desperately as vainly, to cling to the scarce inner strength still left in him. The consuming pain and remorse, fueled by such crude words, causing him to fail miserably, tough.

But some of his combative nature still withstood, unyielding, in the form of an insistent, inner voice screaming, indignant, that she had no right to treat him with such cruelty, that he should make her keep her mouth shut and put her in her place.

After all, it was she who had come looking for him during that damned tournament all those years ago asking him to father her children. Goku was a pretty collected guy, but such bizarre, unexpected petition had rendered him shocked.

The idea of paternity never had crossed his mind before, not even for a fleeting instant; but it was becoming more and more appealing as Chichi explained how it would be arranged.

Goku had blinked in puzzlement, never having heard before about artificial insemination, but relieved, nonetheless, knowing that there was no need to have sex with a woman he did not feel attracted to. And then his mind had gone hyperactive, fantasizing about how exciting would be to convey all what he was, his knowledge and his love for the martial arts to his own son.

And his reaction had been the same as whenever he had sensed the smell of adventure: to blindly embrace the challenge in pure glee, without thinking in the consequences. And besides, the woman seemed so desperate and, at the same time, so determined, that, ignoring all the alarms buzzing insistently within his head, he even had acceded to marry her just to not disappoint and upset her traditional and conservative father.

He knew it was a mistake; but she had pleaded and begged on her knees, crying and menacing to take her own life. And Goku with his inveterate habit or, more precisely, necessity to please everybody, simply had no heart to refuse. And since then, his life had been nothing but a big and terrible lie, just to please the same woman that was treating him so unfairly.

What a fool he had been. He sighed, consigning that seditious little voice to the most hidden recesses of his spirit, soon silenced by his sense of culpability. Chichi was right, she was just voicing out loud the truth; that he was the only blameworthy , for his failures, irresponsibility and egoism. He deserved the punishment; all her bile, hatred and abuse, and much more than that.

He did not know for how long his wife had been ranting and raving, but finally, fatigue overcame rage and Chichi retreated some steps from Goku, covering her face with her hands to cry bitterly. Meanwhile, Goku remained immobile, wordless, with a desolate feeling at his heart, watching her and not sure of what to do. He was positively certain that no apologize, no word of condolence or console would do any good; knowing Chichi, they would only sound hollow, false, even insulting.

Minutes, which felt like an eternity, passed and the heavy silence, only disrupted by the woman's sobs was starting to become intolerable; but, suddenly, a distant creak reached Goku's sensitive ears, startling him and, stepping closer to his wife, he reached out, gently grabbing her forearms.

"Chichi, please, try to calm down a little, Goten is coming." Goku pleaded in a whisper; the weak and low tone of his voice barely concealing his increasing anxiety. Without a look, without a word, the woman twisted around; tears silently, but relentlessly flowing from red-rimmed, exhausted eyes.

Goku knew it wasn't fair to ask her to repress her emotions in a moment like that. Hell! Even him, the very epitome of self-control and fortitude was on the verge of a nervous breakdown; but he feared that his volatile wife, in such a state of hysteria, would only make matters worse. It was going to be traumatic enough for Goten to find out about his brother's passing away; he needed no additional motive of distress.

Goku sighed deeply as his son made his entrance. Goten's radiant countenance, his carefree attitude, the natural, pure joy his whole self emanated…all of it seemed so tragically out of place. And Goku felt an icy cold freezing his heart, wondering if his son would ever be the same again from now on.

"Dad! I knew you'd win!" Goten exclaimed in a jovial tone, with a toothy grin spread across his young face as he advanced to hug his father. But he paused halfway, shocked at Goku's worried expression. Why did he seem to be so upset? Then, Goten glanced at his mother, who had her back turned to him, and when he noticed the shakes wrecking her body, he supposed it was out of sheer rage.

An awkward silence filled the room as Goten fixed an inquiring and apprehensive gaze on Goku. Uneasiness started building in the pitch of his stomach after a thorough scrutiny of his father; his initial assumption of having step into another of his parents' arguments rapidly dismissed. He may not be the smartest of the guys, but he was not either so obtuse as not to realize that something serious had happened.

Usually, when his mother was going through one of her tantrums, his father used to take the verbal, and occasionally physical barrage, in silence, shrugging with indifference or, at the most, giving an embarrassed grin. But the scene before his young and perplexed eyes was totally surreal, as eerie as unexpected.

His father usually stood firm, always looking people straight in the eyes with that clean gaze and that honest expression that were his distinctive trademark; irradiating an aura of confidence and an overwhelming vitality which could charmed even the coldest of the souls. So unlike this pathetic stranger with his head hanging down, hands wriggling and shoulders drooped and bent forward.

The faint light of the evening cast a ghostly glow upon the defeated figure and Goten furrowed his brow and gasped, feeling the air rush from his lungs and his stomach tighten, as he finally realized what had been disturbing him: The light had vanished; that pure and powerful luminosity Goku naturally poured, turning the world around brighter and warmer.

Goten drew a deep breath of air, torn between his natural curiosity and a sudden sensation of anxiety; he needed but dreaded to know what could possibly be so terrible as to cause such devastating effect.

"Dad?…Mom…Something wrong?" Goku cringed, feeling his whole body stiffen at the slight tone of alarm of Goten's voice. Since the demi-saiyan entered, Goku had stayed petrified; he simply didn't know how to break the news without breaking as well Goten's heart. Goku was dreading to face his son's grief, and he suddenly felt like being crushed under an excruciatingly heavy weight. For a brief instant, he turned his face and closed his eyes to calm his nerves. But he quickly gazed back at his son, slowly pursing his lips to speak.

"Dende didn't tell you?", Goku asked; the weak tone and the lack of self-assurance in his voice was not precisely having a comforting effect, but the oddness of the question took Goten by surprise and he shifted and furrowed his brow, while looking at his father intently, more confused than nervous.

"Dende?…He told me that you and Vegeta had finished the bastard…but.." He remained pensive for a split second, seeming to ponder something before speaking again.

"He looked more serious than usual, but I didn't pay much attention, I came here as fast as possible to celebrate your victory. But, what's the matter?" Silence was the only response, and Goten scowled in slight irritation; but suddenly, faint moans reached his ears and he averted his piercing gaze from his hesitant father to lay incredulous eyes upon her mother.

"Mom, why are you crying?" His voice sounded soft and yet strained, permeated with unequivocal overtones of despair. But the woman stayed motionless, irresponsive, so immerse in her desolation that nothing else was relevant.

"Dad?", he implored with impatience after interminable moments of tense silence.

"Goten, you should take a seat," his father said, walking up to him and reaching out a hand to pat the young man's shoulder. But that gesture, instead of soothing him, just served to unnerve him even more.

"I don't want to sit, I want to know what the heck is going on." He snapped loudly, fixing blazing, furious eyes in his father, who could only stare at him helplessly, unable to muster sufficient courage to speak frankly.

But it was his mother, who, suddenly snapping out of her trance, spun to face him, and with a frown of intermingled anger and agony, spluttered:

"Gohan is dead and this brainless coward does not even have the guts to tell you."

Goku gawked, under a frown, at her cruelty, with incredulity and, also, a profound sorrow for his son; her grief was no excuse to such behavior, such ruthlessness. Even the most ferocious beast would die to save its offspring, but this woman didn't care at all for her son's feelings. It seemed as if the consuming anguish and rage for Gohan's death had totally and utterly annihilated her humanity, leaving no trace of her maternal instincts.

Then something clicked inside Goku's head, and for the first time, he could understand her, suddenly feeling a profound pity: She, Chichi, was not a woman, nor a wife, nor an individual per se; she had simply been Gohan's mother, never showing such same - oppressive- love for Goten. Even before Gohan came to this world, since her most tender age; that was all she had wished, what she was born for. And now that Gohan was dead she had lost, along with her dreams, joy and hopes, her identity. Now she was nothing but an empty shell, a mere container of sorrow and hate.

"Chichi! Please, not like this…" Goku implored in a broken voice, while glancing sourly at the woman; but he immediately turned to look at his son, who had stayed speechless, bewildered, his mouth and eyes widely open in skeptical disbelief.

Goten looked intently at his father, "Dad, that…that cannot be true…", he trailed off with an infantile tone of voice, as he tried to convince himself that he was just in the middle of a bad dream.

An expressive silence was the only reply and Goten's eyes began to well up.

Gohan, dead?…It was impossible, the sole idea was ludicrous, unbelievable.

But the expressions on his parents' faces told otherwise and he felt a crack deep within his heart. Gohan had been not only his brother, but also a father during the first seven years of his life. And suddenly a heartbreaking howl emerged from the depths of his soul, making all the walls tremble. "NOOOOO!"

He sensed Goku's powerful but slightly trembling arms wrapped tightly around him, but this time he did not feel safe nor protected. His father shushed him, whispering tenderly his name, but such gesture was not comforting at all; it was nothing like in his childhood when every time he had a nightmare that soft and amorous voice swept his terror away lulling him to sleep.

All he was able to feel at that point was an inner cold, a sensation of abandonment; he was again a three year old, but this time lost and alone, without a shelter, without a home.

"Yes, he's dead, my baby is gone, and it's only his fault.", Chichi snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Goku, with her face glowing red and flooded with tears.

Goten replied furiously, brusquely disentangling himself from his father embrace to look face to face at his mother.

"No, no, no…how can you say something so cruel? You can't blame my dad."

"Shhh…It's Ok, son, let it be." Goku knew those words were only motivated by her excruciating heartache. "Your mother is right." Sighing, he unconsciously uncurled his tail from his waist; the furry appendage swayed slowly and sadly, before hanging limply behind him, catching Chichi's attention, and she flew into a rage again.

"You, freak…", she snarled, disgusted, then glared at her distraught son. "This sick monster forced your brother to fight, knowing Gohan didn't like it. He just couldn't leave him alone. Gohan only wanted to have a job and a nice life, never liked that madness. Unlike both of you, he wasn't a sanguinary beast. So tell me, who's the responsible of his death?"

Goku opened his mouth, he would not allow Chichi to insult her own son, but before he could say anything, Goten spoke, unable to contain his indignation.

"That's not true! Gohan always fought to defend his friends and family because he knew it was the right thing. He was a hero and you're dishonoring his memory with such false words. Gohan would never approve the way you're treating my dad, he doesn't deserve it."

Chichi walked up to Goten and, frowning, snapped him in the face with all the force she could muster. Goten rubbed his cheek in silence, biting his lips, seemingly unable to get over his growing astonishment.

"Chichi!", yelled Goku, this time in an almost authoritative tone; but paying him no heed, she looked daggers at her son.

"You stupid…Your father is just a scum, he should be the dead one, or better, both of you, but not my baby." Then, after slapping him again, she dropped on her knees and started crying hysterically.

Goten, too hurt to reply to such cruel statement, and without even glancing at his father, just ran out and upstairs to Gohan's room.

The distraught demi-saiyan stood by the doorway, not daring to come closer to the inert form on the bed and pressed his eyes tightly shut, shivering, as he tried to imagine himself like that: rigid, pale and cold, lying on that mattress, completely oblivious, insensible to the world around.

He could not help but to think that his mother was right, he should be the dead one. Gohan had been the smartest and strongest of the two, the good son, the caring one.

But he had been just a naughty, silly and lazy boy, wasting his time like a brainless adolescent who did not know what to do with his life. He had no vocation, no aspirations, no purpose.

But Gohan, on the contrary, was destined to do great things, he adored his job and was happy with his way of living. Science had always been Gohan's passion; and immediately after his graduation Gohan had started working at CC. And he never ceased to talk about how stimulating and exciting was to work there, with Trunks. Gohan was fascinated with the ingenious and brilliant ideas of the CC. heir.

Damn! Gohan had tried to tell him about a new project he and Trunks had been working on; it had to be something really extraordinary and amazing for Gohan to seem so enthusiastic about it. But he had paid his elder brother no attention. Goten remembered, regretfully, to have yawned out of boredom and left flying through the window to hang out with one of his girlfriends.

Goten heaved a deep sigh, he did not remember when it had been the last time he and his brother had spent some time together in conversation, making confidences, sharing their problems and joys like they used to do when Goten was just a little kid.

Through clouded eyes, he gave a last look at Gohan, not wanting to stay there for any longer…No, that lifeless body was not his brother anymore. Gohan was that serene shine coming from curious eyes, that warm and understanding smile permanently gracing friendly features; brilliance and modesty, shyness and determination, patience, temperance, care...All gone forever.

Stifling a yelp, Goten walked out of the room, sitting on the landing at the top of the staircase where he could hear her mother insulting his father; her screams resounding all over the house. He covered his ears with the palm of his hands, pressing firmly, but to no avail; though he could not discern clearly the words; the unpleasant, piercing screeching reached his delicate ears with a vengeance.

He placed his hands on his lap in time to hear her mother telling his father to leave the house. Gotten clenched his fists in utter rage as his heart pounded violently, and he experienced for the first time what hatred really meant. She was smashing all his world to smithereens. Why was she being such a witch? Didn't she know that it was precisely at such fateful moment when he needed his father more than ever? That he was the only balm to cure his broken heart?

When he saw his father tiredly heading toward the front door, Goten rose to his feet and ran down after him, unable to hold back his tears for any longer.

Goku was standing on the front lawn, his vacant gaze turned up to the dark blue firmament above, trying to find responses in the timid, early stars of the dying evening.

From the porch, Goten called him with tremulous voice, and Goku twisted to look at him. The boy looked so desolate, so terribly helpless, and Goku walked up to him; both men sitting on the wooden floor, sharing their sadness in silence.

Meanwhile Chichi had gone up to be with Gohan. She placed her hand on the doorframe for support, yelping and trembling at the sight of that formerly creamy skin now marred by purple expanses. After a deep breath, she walked with hesitant steps to lie down beside her son; and, holding tightly the limp form in her arms, she cried her heart out while planting desperate kisses all over the brutally injured face.

After a long while her loud, bitter crying abated and she watched that face in utter reverie and adoration, sweeping a lock of hair from her son's forehead with trembling fingers and feeling like dying inside. She shed some more tears, this time for herself, because her life had no meaning anymore.

She had only wanted to make true her most cherished dream: motherhood. Having been raised by his father, Chichi had never savored the unconditional love of a mother; she could only fantasize about how it would feel like, the sweetness of the caresses and kisses she so avidly yearned for.

Ox King had cosseted and spoiled her all her life, indulging her every whim; but she had always been imbued with the sensation of lacking something essential,

something which would have turned the world into the congruent place she guessed it should be. And that emotional void, that hunger for tender affection her father was

unable to provide, had awakened within her, at a very tender age, the desire to become a mother herself, so she could live through her children what providence had denied her.

But that, primarily, innocent and puerile wish, which had blossomed like a flower of hope in the midst of her heart; through solitary years had grown like weed, uncontrollably, deriving into an unhealthy obsession; and she had devoted all her energies and faculties, her whole self and existence to fulfill it at any price, willing to sacrifice everything else.

And when she first met Goku, Chichi had been dazzled, impressed at the young man's qualities: his courage, strength, honesty and joy of living, and his undoubted physical attractiveness. Not that she had any romantic inclination for him, but those were the attributes she had always wanted her children to be graced with; and she decided, in that precise moment, he would be the father of her kids.

That was the only reason why she had trained so hard during those three years after Goku's departure; she was well aware that her only chance to meet that boy again and to caught his attention was entering a world tournament of martial arts.

Chichi exhaled a regretful sigh, looking through glassy eyes the unanimated features of her son, as her mind led her, cruelly and obstinately, through that painful journey to her past. Certainly she got what she wanted, a son. And she had lived those first years of the boy's childhood under a false illusion of perfect happiness. But sometimes, during long nights of insomnia in his solitary bedroom, she could felt the heavy weigh of loneliness abruptly descending upon her, nagging at her heart, awakening a deep yearn; and she spent long hours looking at the empty space on her mattress, wishing to have strong arms to embrace her, to dissipate the coldness from her futile existence.

Goku and she did not have a marital relationship, they both had agreed on that from the very beginning. She even had obliged her 'official' husband to build their home in a secluded place, trying to keep him apart from all his friends, fearing they would discover the farce; being so strikingly obvious their mutual detachment, her indifference toward his 'husband' and Goku's disinterest on her.

But she spent years trying to persuade herself that everything was right, that she could live like that, ignoring and denying herself those- licit and natural in any healthy woman -carnal and sentimental appetites. But that dissatisfaction only widened that emotional gap within, which her in return tried to full by becoming more possessive of her child, an asphyxiating and overprotective mother. It was a vicious circle: the more frustrated as woman the more 'castrating' as mother. Like a snowball becoming bigger and bigger in its way down, only leaving destruction behind: a devastated soul.

Her son had become more indispensable than the air she breathed, to survive, because she had renounced to anything else: It was her sun and her moon, the center of her universe, the only meaningful thing in her life; once that he had become real at last, a blissful little piece of life, her dear baby, it didn't matter anymore to her to amaze the world by having the strongest of the kids; her only wish was to have him by her side, to feel him solely hers. That's why she had refused categorically when Goku had suggested to start training the boy.

She had to recognize that Goku had been right when he had reproached her for making of his son an extremely timid and frightened child, and yes, she also recognized that the year her son had spent alone, 'kidnapped' by that green 'delinquent', had serve to strengthen the child's character. But if 'the incident', -as she used to referred to Raditz's arrival- wouldn't have turned their lives upside down, Gohan might be now a coward, but an alive one, and only hers.

She sighed, admitting to herself how terribly wrong she had been. Destiny should not be forced so abnormally, so desperately. If only she would have been patient enough to let life flow placidly, leisurely, at its natural pace, bringing its sweet fruits in their own time, when they were more delicious and gratifying; but her insane folly had led her to this desolate dead-end, cemetery of all her hopes and joys, where only the sour, revolting taste of bile awaited for her.

She should have made amends while she could; during that year she had been separated from her child, when the mirage of illusory happiness had vanished, chunked away by the ominous and powerful jaws of the crude reality, finally realizing that she was trapped in an existence she didn't wanted anymore.

The idea of breaking a marriage which had been agonizing from the very beginning, to find a man who could give her true love and a real family, had crossed her mind more than once. But, victim of conventionalisms and repression, to her, divorce was not an option and she became more and more frustrated, developing a bitter resentment against Goku.

And when he was brought back to life, she just aggravated the situation by verbal and physical abusing him; the quarrels were continual, diary and she made sure to wait until Gohan returned from school to humiliate her husband in front of the child. She didn't really believed her actions were out of malice, but of frustration. And Goku just put up with it, having more urgent and serious motives of preoccupation with the impending arrival of the androids.

And when the saiyan was killed again and announced his intention to remain in Otherworld forever, she thought that to be the solution to all her tribulations; she would be alone again with her son, without those obnoxious creatures her husband called friends, pestering around. There was no need to pretend anymore in front of them. It had been especially annoying to have to act as a plaintive, grief-stricken wife, worried sick for her ill husband when Goku had been affected by the heart virus, when in reality she felt nothing at all.

But only few days had passed after Goku's death when she came to realize that Gohan was not her little baby anymore. Surely he still was a sweet and obedient son, but he was more independent as well, escaping to be with Piccolo and the rest of Goku's friends whenever he had the chance, revealing in the console they provided; he missed so much his father and, being with the gang, the boy felt his father closer, almost as if he wasn't really absent.

And then Chichi, instead of learning from her past wrongdoings just worsened matters by plotting another of her unfortunate ideas, or to be more precise, another of her deliriums.

She went to the clinic where still some samples of Goku's seed were stored, to be inseminated again. She just wanted desperately to relive the joy from those first years of Gohan's childhood, and now that Goku was not around she could raise the baby as she pleased. She was really convinced that things would be different this time.

But she became conscious, very soon, of her tremendous mistake. She was older, more bitter and disappointed with the world, and terribly alone; she needed help, and with a preteen son and a little baby it was almost impossible to find a man willing to commit.

The newly born was just a stranger, a nuisance, a burden instead of a joy; and her boundless obsession for her eldest, which filled her heart completely, was a hindrance for establishing deep and true ties of affection with anybody else; even if that anybody was flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood.

Chichi's detachment for Goten deepened as the boy grew, mostly because his great resemblance with his father, not only in his physical appearance, but in his character and personality either; the boy was so intrepid, independent, carefree and wild. She could not feel any affection for him, just the same resentment and coldness Goku had roused in her, a little more temperate, but sufficient to make their lives miserable.

Incessant tears, as sour as her somber contemplations, streamed down her face, dripping on Gohan's shirt, and, for an instant, she could only watch almost mesmerized how the wet spot became bigger. Then she closed her eyes, nuzzling and snuggling against the inert form.

She knew she had been unfair and unnecessarily cruel to Goten; she was the only culprit of her misery. All her life had been nothing but a tortuous descent, a long succession of failures and unfortunate mistakes, each of them a step down to her self-concocted hell in which now she found herself irremediably imprisoned, awaiting until blissful death came to release her.

Some spasms wracked her body before she ran out of tears. But finally, her practical side took control again over her emotions; she had to keep busy herself to forget the intense pain and the desperation gnawing at the remains of her heart.

So she hopped out of the bed and, after stripping the corpse, went to retrieve a bottle of medicinal alcohol and a sponge, proceeding to clean and prepare the body in the traditional way. She would take care of her son properly, like she had always done.

Meanwhile, Goten and Goku had been watching quietly as the vast expanse above their heads got darker and the sun was slowly swallowed by the golden skyline. Goku, putting an arm around his son's shoulder, was the first to broke the serene silence.

"Goten, son, your mother's too hurt, I'm certain she regrets everything she said." His voice sounded weak, insecure; he didn't believe in his own words, but didn't know what else to do to comfort the boy.

Goten chuckled skeptically and shrugged, "She really meant it father, I know."

"Goten…" Goku sighed, lost for words.

"No, dad, it's true. I have always known, she always was so distant and harsh with me, while Gohan got all her attention and love. I'm not complaining, just stating an obvious fact." Goten tilted his head to look into his father's eyes, as a sad smile tugged at his lips.

"I haven't forgotten your surprise at knowing that my mother had been training me while you were dead, or the astounded look on your friends' faces. All of you were persuaded, delighted, that she had changed for better; someone even said that time had dulcified her temper", Goten let out a sarcastic snicker as Goku nodded his head in mute response.

"They should have been here at home, when I was alone with her; all the horrible things she said, the yells, the insults and the smacks; always angry at me because I was so alike you." Goten's voice was low, quiet, almost a whisper, matching the calmness of the nature around, but Goku could feel the overtones of despair and the intensity of the bitterness contained in those words.

"Son, I'm…I'm so sorry for being so selfish. I should have been here for you."

"It's ok, dad, you didn't even know about my existence. And Gohan always was there, standing up for me and for you. He always gave me all the affection I was denied by her, so it wasn't such bad."

Goten exhaled a barely audible sigh, his voice trembling slightly as he pronounced his brother's name, with his eyes fixed on the ground, before speaking again, "Do you want to know why she really trained me? She didn't want Gohan to fight; she told me we shouldn't let Gohan to be exposed to any peril; whenever a new enemy appeared I should deal with them. I was so naïve that I felt my heart explode with pure joy, thinking that, for once, she was so proud of me, to the point to trust me with such honor. It wasn't until much later when I finally understood the real significance of her words: if someone had to die that should be me, not my brother."

"Son…"

"Don't worry, dad. I can live with that. But now, without Gohan…I wouldn't know how to keep on going if you leave me too. She has no right to dump you. Damn, she's your wife; how does she dare?" Goku looked at him frowning, he had never saw his son so enraged, and he did not like it; such negative feelings against his mother would do no good to either of them.

"Goten, don't blame her, please." Goku spoke using a conciliatory tone of voice hoping, that way, to appease the young man.

Then he went quiet, doubting for a brief instant whether or not to tell Goten about his agreement with Chichi; should he explain him that she was just a frustrated woman, victim of a compulsion stronger than her willpower, which had conditioned her whole existence, hence the wrong decisions she had taken in order to reach what any other human being so legitimately sought: their deserved portion of happiness? But he decided against it. It wasn't the moment for such revelations and definitively it would not help Goten to understand her mother's behavior.

So he simply pulled his son against him, holding him tightly, sensing how the boy trembled; his breath becoming steady, as his rage lessened. Goku felt a few warm tears dropping on his bare chest and he stroked Goten's hair soothingly.

"But, this is your home too. Please, stay, I need you." It was heartbreaking to see her son like that and not being able to grant his desperate request, but he had no other choice.

"No Goten, she's right I will only bring you disgrace and pain. I must leave."

"No, that's not true. Let me go with you." His sobs were getting louder and louder and his body had started to convulse in incessant spasms, unable to contain for any longer all those painful emotions which had been building up since he came back home.

"Shh, Goten, you must stay. She needs you." Goten went limp in his father's arms, feeling his mind go numb. He was unable to understand any of his father's words; why was he rejecting his own son, compelling him to stay with a woman who hated him, who wanted him dead? Had the man gone crazy all of a sudden? And why did his chest hurt so bad? He could only gasp, raising his eyes to look, in shocked disbelief, at his father.

"Why?" He knitted his brow while Goku stared him back with a perplexed expression on his face, "Why should I care about her needs? And mine, father? Who cares about what I need? You're going to run away like always, leaving others behind to take care of the mess."

Goten resumed his hysterical crying, repented the very moment his harsh reproach escaped from his lips and he clung tightly to his father, nuzzling apologetically against his chest. Goku just let him vent all his pain, meanwhile kissing and caressing his hair softly.

Few minutes passed before the demi-saiyan, a little more composed, murmured a quiet 'sorry'. Goku cupped Goten's chin with his hand to look him in the eyes; the young man flushed, ashamed of his outburst and, after wiping his teary eyes with the back of his hand, he held his father's stare.

"It's Ok, son. I would stay if I could, but that's impossible right now. You know how unstable your mother can become, she is capable to do something too extreme, so please, I need you to do this for me, son; watch over her." His father's eyes were full of remorse and Goten just nodded his head in silent agreement.

"And I'm not going to disappear from your life, I promise. Once the funeral takes place you can come to see me whenever you want; but for now your mother cannot stay alone."

"But what are you going to do? Where are you going to stay?" Goku smiled sadly at the concerned tone of his son's voice, ruffling the young man's hair.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. I've lived by my own before. I will have you know where I am staying. And very soon we'll meet again, now I need some time alone to ponder things. Ok?"

Goten assented, resigned, and standing upon shaky legs he bid his farewell; Goku remained immobile and pensive under the stars, watching as his son staggered toward the tiny house; feeling so insignificant, so worthless and lonesome there outside, in that big, cold world.

TBC


End file.
